


but a cold wind blows (and a hard rain falls)

by DesertLily



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Enby!Race, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Race Jack and Crutchie are brothers, Race is a good brother, Sprace is only background, The Refuge, nb!Race, nonbinary!Race
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertLily/pseuds/DesertLily
Summary: Racetrack Higgins was a lot of things. They were a friend. They were Jack Kelly’s second-in-command. They were Spot Conlon’s...something. But most importantly; they were a brother.AkaRace goes to the refuge instead of Crutchie.
Relationships: Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dyingpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/gifts).



> A fic I've been working on for a friend!!

Racetrack Higgins was a lot of things. They were a friend. They were Jack Kelly’s second-in-command. They were Spot Conlon’s...something. But most importantly; they were a brother. Sure, their friends were close enough to be considered family but when it came to Jack and Crutchie? The trio were as thick as thieves. They were brothers in every sense but blood and there wasn’t a single thing in the world Race wouldn’t do for them. There were very few possessions they had so they treasured their family as if they were made of gold. The world’s greatest treasures came in the form of Jack hugging them when their nightmares got bad or the laughs Crutchie let out whenever Race teased him. They were family. They were...good. 

Whilst also being their greatest strength, their brothers were always their greatest weakness. Something akin to an ice cold fear struck them to the bone every single time they saw Crutchie fall or worse; be on the verge of being dragged away. He was their little brother and they were terrified at the prospect of not being able to look out for him. Then came Jack; their big brother - the one they always turned to when things went wrong. The one who was always there for them; who they trusted blindly. As much as Race gave Jack shit constantly, they really did care about him. No matter what, Jack was family and Race didn’t give up on family. Even if said family was an absolute dumbass half the time. But still, both Jack and Crutchie were there when Race needed them and Race tried to be there for them. They worked in synergy around each other. 

That synergy was shattered the day Davey Jacobs came into their lives. That wasn’t to say Race disliked Davey - not even remotely! He seemed like a decent enough guy; wanting to look out for his family and protect his younger brother. Race could relate to him on that front. But it was also after meeting Davey that everything fell apart. Things were fine at first. Jack seemed to warm to Davey like a moth to a flame, instantly moving to sweep him and his brother Les under his wing. Though, his reasoning made Race’s heart sink slightly - not that they would ever admit it. “Because you’ve got a cute little brother, and I don’t.” Race knew there was no malice behind the statement and that it was referring to the fact Les was a kid but there was still a moment of irrationality in their mind. Jack has two younger brothers. Two that he had seemingly dismissed in an instant and Race was one of them. It wasn’t intentional but it still hurt. It had still seen the seeds of doubt in their mind. How much did Jack’s brothers really mean to him?

Race went about their day like usual. They headed across the Brooklyn bridge and made a beeline straight to Sheepshead. They did their best to ignore the headline - seriously, how many people realistically wanted to hear more about the trolley strike? - and instead turned their attention to the sports section. Announcements of betting odds slipped from their lips as they drew in a few regulars. Race always offered a crooked smile as they handed over a paper. They followed their daily routine to a t. They tried to act as if everything was normal but Jack’s words still burned at the back of their mind. ‘ _ I don’t.’  _ What if he was being serious? What if Jack really had just stopped seeing Race and Crutchie as his brothers? What if he was ready to turn his back on them? With how much emphasis he always put on Santa Fe, Race knew there was a chance Jack would leave them one day; that he’d just walk away and never come back. The thought left a sinking feeling in Race’s stomach for the entire day. It left their mind full of a million and one thoughts. Too many thoughts to justify seeing Spot that night. They needed to go home. They needed to make sure at least Crutchie was okay. 

Race found themself sleeping on the rooftop that night, staying close to their brothers. Thankfully, Jack hadn’t questioned it. Though, he had given them a questioning look when Race shrugged off the arm he tried to wrap around their shoulders. They hadn’t gotten much sleep that night - and it wasn’t entirely the fire sirens that were to blame. Their mind was alive with thoughts about what would happen  _ when _ Jack left. They’d probably be left to take over as leader of Manhattan; be the one everyone turned to when things went wrong. They would have to stop selling in Brooklyn too - it would seem illogical. Race would have to stay in Manhattan; make sure to be there for anyone who needed them. They’d probably take over Jack’s old selling spots - maybe his selling techniques too. God knew that betting odds weren’t enough to use to sell papers in Manhattan. There, you really  _ did _ need to rely on the headline. Thoughts of the future kept them awake that night. They spent the night staring up at the stars; wondering if they were the same stars Jack would see when he left for Santa Fe. 

Morning came far too soon for Race. They forced themself to grin and smile and laugh; to act as if everything was fine - as if they hadn’t spent the night contemplating how terrible things were going to get. There was a sinking feeling in their stomach that they couldn’t shake. It was there as they assured Jack they were okay. It was there whilst they got ready. It was there whilst they joked around with Albert and the others. It was there when they reached the distribution centre.  _ And it was sure as shit there when they saw the headline _ . New newsies price.  _ Fuck _ . Sure, they made enough at Sheepshead that they  _ should _ have still been fine but it wasn’t themself that they were worried about. It was everyone else. It was those who only just got by every day; it was those that this would leave out on the streets - alone, cold, and hungry.    
  
But then there was Jack, coming in grinning and laughing as if there was nothing even remotely wrong. Then he saw the headline and that smile seemed to freeze in place before twisting into an expression of pure confusion. Then he did the most Jack thing in the world; he tried to play it off as a joke but one look at his face would prove that he didn’t think it was really a joke. Not for a single second. He was buying himself time to think. Though, Race couldn’t help but notice how the thinking seemed to do jackshit. Especially at the reveal that every paper had done the same; the rich and mighty newspaper owners of New York had decided that the best way to make money was by scamming it out of working kids. The worst part of it? There was fuck all any of them could do about it. Absolutely nothing. Then Jack had to open his dumb mouth and make things one hundred and one times more complicated. A strike. Jack Kelly declared that the Manhattan newsies should go on strike and like idiots they were, all of them had agreed. 

Of course, it wasn’t enough for them to simply declare that they were striking - they needed to spread the word; to see how many of the city’s newsies would willingly stand by them. The boroughs were divided between them and Race found themself claiming Midtown. The obvious choice would have been Brooklyn. Spot Conlon would join if Racetrack asked him simply because  _ Race was the one asking _ . But they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t exploit their relationship like that. Instead, Jack and Davey were left to take on Brooklyn. Race just hoped Spot wouldn’t take it personally that they weren’t the one to go see him; that they had subjected him to dealing with Jack. No doubt Davey would end up being given some dumb nickname out of it. Part of them hoped whatever terrible nickname it was would stick - absolutely not for reasons linking to Race being  _ jealous _ of how quickly Davey had grown to Jack. Not even remotely. Besides, Jack was interested in that reporter girl. That was obvious for anyone to see. Though, Race had yet to catch her name. Not that it was important right now. What was important was dolling up the charm and hoping it would be enough to convince others to join the Strike. 

There had never been any sort of animosity between the Manhattan newsies and the Midtown newsies - not like there was with Queens. Rats, their designated ‘leader’ had always seemed like she was pretty reasonable. She was also one of the few people who Race had tragically been beaten by in poker. Still, they were sure this would be an easy sell. There was no way Rats would be happy with the price being hitched like that. As they walked through Midtown, Race found themself the subject of a few odd looks but no one stopped them. When they found Rats she seemed to be finishing up at her usual selling spot.  _ Perfect. _ “Hey! Rodent! You got a minute?”

Her lips twitched upwards at that. “Didn’t expect to see you around here, Higgins. This isn’t Manhattan and it certainly ain’t Brooklyn. What’s dragged you so far from home?” She approached them slowly, looking almost amused by their presence. “Not often you’re around here. If you’re looking for me to swipe all your money, wrong day of the month for poker night and you know it.” 

“I ain’t here for poker.” Race stuck their hands in their pockets. “I’m here for business, and not the fun kind.” 

Rats’ expression grew neutral at that. She wasn’t smiling but she wasn’t exactly frowning either. “Go on.” 

They took a deep breath. “I’m guessing you’s all dealing with the same price rise as the rest of us?” They waited for her to nod before continuing. “You know Manhattan’s got a lot of kids - like actual kids. Not as many as Brooklyn but enough that this puts them in danger. And Jack...Jack ain’t a fan of any of us getting into danger. So him and Davey - some new guy - formulated their own response to it; A strike.” 

She snorted at that, more amused by the situation than anything else. “Aww. Is Jackie looking to replace you as his second, Race?” Their entire body went rigged at that. That sentence  _ definitely _ hit more than one nerve. “We been selling papers on the trolley strike for weeks. You really think our own strike is going to go any better. We’re  _ kids _ . No one gives a damn about us.”

“Maybe if we strike then that’ll  _ make _ them care.” Race took a deep breath. They weren’t as good with words as Jack was. “It’ll prove they can’t just...fuck us over whenever they feel like it. People will notice when they can’t find out about the latest news, Rats. They’ll notice when we ain’t out on the streets hawking the latest papes and squawking about the headline. The pape price rose so the owners could make more money, right?  _ What happens when we make sure they don’t earn a single cent? _ ”

Rats paused for a few moments as she thought about the words. “I’m guessing Brooklyn’s with you on this?” Her eyebrows rose when Racetrack remained silent. “What? You saying he ain’t so loyal to you anymore?” She sighed. “Look. Come back when you get Brooklyn on side and we’ll be there with you. But not a second before. Got it.” 

Race chewed at their lips. “Got it.” This would be fine. It had to be! Spot wasn’t a dumbass. He’d see reason and join them. Then Race could wander back into Midtown with the smuggest smile on their face. 

As it turned out, Spot Conlon had decided to be too reasonable. He wanted to make sure they didn’t fold at the first sign of trouble. It wasn’t an unreasonable demand but it meant that, for now, Manhattan was alone. No other borough would join them until Spot did. Which was fine! It was absolutely fine and not even remotely disheartening! But then there was Jack trying to encourage them and boost morale.  _ Then there was Jack turning to Davey to help _ . Maybe Rats had been right. Maybe Jack really was replacing them. Maybe Jack really was planning on leaving his brothers behind. And God, didn’t that thought  _ hurt _ . But Race didn’t show it. Not for a second. To his credit, Davey was persuasive - more persuasive than Racetrack could ever hope to be. Him and Jack were enough to get everyone motivated; enough to even convince the scabs to change sides. They barely knew each other but they were already a team. At least everything was going okay! They weren’t folding; they were fighting! Spot couldn’t deny that.Things were going great! 

That was, of course, until they weren’t. Sure, maybe some sort of scrap should have been expected but the bulls showing up? That was real trouble. Because they didn’t give a damn that any of them were kids; they just had power and a want to ‘enforce it’. Then  _ he _ was there in the middle of it all. Warden Snyder. A prominent figure in the nightmares of too many working kids. Everyone had the same thought at that; scatter. None of them wanted to end up at the Refuge. Hell, Race wouldn’t even wish a stay there upon their worst enemy. So they bolted, getting out of there as fast as they could. But they still stayed close by; making sure all of the others got out. They did. All of them but one. Crutchie.  _ Race’s little brother _ . They didn’t think as they sprinted back inside, fuelled only by a need to keep their family safe. 

As the Delancey brothers moved to close in on Crutchie, Race put themself between them. A look of pure defiance crossed their face at that. “Crutchie. Go. As fast as you can. Go and find Jack. He’ll keep you safe.” They glanced back at him for a moment. 

“But, Ra-”

“ _ Charlie _ . Go.” That was enough to set him off. Which left Racetrack alone with the Delancey brothers. Fuck. Sure, they could take Morris in a fight on his own but Morris and Oscar together? Race didn’t like those odds. Not even for a second. They were taller, bigger, and older. But if they were focused on Race then they weren’t focused on Crutchie. So they took each punch and hit as it came, fighting back just enough to keep their interest. But then a voice rang out; a voice that solidified Race’s fate. 

“That’s enough, boys.” Snyder’s voice chilled Race to the very bone. It had been years since they had been this close to the man. It had been years since they had felt pure fear like this. “Loyalty and bravery are admirable traits, young man, but they won’t help you anymore.” The man’s laugh was like daggers in their ears. “It’s off to the Refuge with you.”

Race was vaguely aware of someone calling their name - Jack most likely - but they didn't respond to it. They didn’t respond to anything as they let themself be dragged away. They kept repeating the same thought over and over again in their head. Rather them than Crutchie. 


	2. During

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the story continues

The Refuge was cold; freezing even. There were no fireplaces and no warmth was offered to its inhabitants outside of a thin blanket. After all, they were  _ delinquents _ and clearly deserved to be treated without an ounce of respect. Racetrack had already given away their blanket to one of the younger kids there; citing that they probably needed it more than them. Their thread bear clothes did  _ nothing _ to protect against the cold. It felt as if it were chilling Race to the very core of their being. It was too cold to even consider sleep. Not to mention the flare of pain that came every time they move thanks to the bruises that littered their skin. All in all, it had been a pretty shitty day and it was looking as if it was going to be a pretty shitty night too. 

The most terrible thing about staying up all night was that it made your mind wonder. It forced you to think - even if you didn’t want to. Though, it did make them think of something Ten Pins had given them shortly after their arrival. A scrap of paper and a pencil - in case they wanted to get a letter out to Jack; a note saying they were okay because God knows someone would drop by eventually. That was a key thing about the Manhattan newsies; they were all loyal to a fault. Too loyal perhaps. Definitely too loyal. With one arm wrapped tightly around themself and the other holding the pencil unsteadily, Race found themself beginning to write. 

_ Dear Jack, _

_ Yeah, yeah. I’m aware of how much of a dumbass I was. Getting myself dragged here as if I ain’t got a brain. I was reckless and stupid and every other bad word you’re going to scream at me when I get out. God knows I’ll deserve them. But I had to do it. It was Curtchie. It was  _ Charlie _. We both know I’ll do a better job handling things here than he would. I never want him to end up stuck here. I never want you to get stuck back here again either. So I did what I had too. I defended the dumb fucks I call family. And you know what? I don’t regret it. Not even remotely. Though, maybe don’t ask me that question in a couple of weeks. Might have a slightly different answer at that point. But as long as all of you are okay? Then I’m okay too.  _

_ Part of me always thought you were joking when you said being here was like Hell. But you were right. God, you were more than right, Jack. It’s cold enough that I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever understand the concept of warmth again. Already gave my blanket away to some other kid. Though, you probably know that already. You always call me out when I do dumb shit like that. Even if you are the one I learn all this dumb shit from. Who knows? Maybe I’ll replicate you entirely and hide out in the back of some politician’s carriage. Might even go big and get out in  _ Snyder’s _ carriage. But not tonight. Too fucking cold to do anything of value tonight. The kids here, Jack... I’ve never seen anyone look so bleak before; so defeated. It’s...scary. It’s terrifying what this place does to people. Absolutely terrifying. But I won’t end up like that. We both know I’m too stubborn for that.  _

_ Look out for everyone else, alright? Everything’s gone to shit and they’re going to need you more than ever. Charlie especially. He’ll blame himself for this. But don’t you dare let him blame himself for my actions. Please. He deserves better than blaming himself. Both of you do. So look out for everything, alright? And tell them I’ll get Spot to kick all their asses if they sit around moping. He’s a better fighter than me. Tell him I’m sorry too. Tell everyone.  _

_ From your asshole of a little brother _

_ Racetrack _

No sooner did they finish the letter did someone appear at the window. Under the cover of night, Race couldn’t help but think that the figure looked ominous as shit - like some demon trying to get in. And honestly? Considering the stories they’d heard about the Refuge? It wouldn’t entirely surprise them. “Race! Hey, Racer!” The half-whispered voice  _ definitely _ wasn’t one belonging to a demon. No, it was a voice they knew well. Maybe a little too well. Blink. Now that they knew who it was, it left them with one question;  _ Why the hell was Blink there? _

With a groan, Race dragged themself up off of the bottom bunk and stumbled towards the window. They were clutching their letter to Jack with an iron grip. “T’fuck you doing here, Blink? Not exactly the sorta place for a social gathering.” They ignored the way Blink hissed in sympathy once he caught sight of them. Sure, Blink had a few bruises but Race was acutely aware of the fact they looked like absolute  _ shit _ . Snyder hadn’t exactly been gracious as he dragged them to the Refuge. 

“Came to check in on you, dumbass. Practically had to fight Al for the chance to do it.” Blink snorted, before gesturing down with his head. “...He’s down there making sure we don’t get caught.” Race glanced over and sure enough, they could just about make out the red of Albert’s hair. “Jack would've come but Crutchie’s in one hell of a state right now, Racer. Everyone is.” 

Race sighed at that, closing their eyes for a few moments. “...You here to break me out?” The question was rhetorical and they knew it. The Refuge wasn’t somewhere you just...broke out of. If you escaped, it came with careful planning and pure stubbornness. Or, in Jack’s case, it came with pure recklessness. Blink’s silence was all the answer they needed. “Figured. At least pass this on to Jack.” They reached through the bars in the window to press the note into Blink’s hand. “It’s something to at least attempt to make him worry less.” 

“Sorry, Racer.” There was genuine sincerity in his voice as he pocketed the note. “I do come bearing gifts, though.” With that, Blink moved to take two things out of his pocket. A cigar and a box of matches. “Figured you could use a smoke right about now.”

They snatched up the cigar as if their life depended on it, scrambling to wrap their fingers around it. “You’re a fucking saint, Louis.” Race didn’t hesitate before lighting the cigar and taking a long drag. The smoke burnt their lungs but  _ it was exactly what they needed _ . It would be enough to give them at least a mock semblance of warmth. It would keep them calm for a while, at least. “I’ll be okay. You know that, right? I’ve dealt with worse beatings than this before.” Race silenced Blink with a single look when he tried to protest. “You should probably get going ‘fore you and Al get stuck in here with me. I’ll see you when I get out, and I  _ will _ get out.” They tried to hide their uncertainty at their last sentence. There were kids that had spent  _ years _ at the Refuge without escape. God knows how long Snyder was planning on keeping them there. 

Blink hesitated. “...See you around, Racer.” With that, he seemed to disappear back into the night; climbing down from the windowsill. Racetrack took another long drag from the cigar. Fuck knows when they’d get another one. They should probably have just savoured it, put it out and saved the rest for another time. But they didn’t. They let it burn and burn, treasuring every bit of smoke that came from it. It was their only defence against the harsh, cold night. 

It was the next day that Race truly began to understand why people acted as if the Refuge was Hell on Earth. It was wickedness in the form of an institution. It started around breakfast time. Though, calling it ‘breakfast’ would be being generous. It was a measly third of a stale loaf of bread. Apparently it was supposed to feed all twelve boys stuck in their room. Just like their blanket, Race had forsaken their piece of bread. They could hold out until they were given whatever constituted as ‘dinner’. As they would later find out, that consisted of a bowl of unbelievably watered down soup. Truly, it was like staying in a palace! 

One of the first things Racetrack learnt was that snark wouldn’t be tolerated at the Refuge. The smallest hint of it was enough to have the closest guard lashing out at them. Supposedly, it was to teach them ‘respect’. But that was bull. Race knew the real reason they did it.  _ Because they could. _ Because they  _ enjoyed _ it. It was terrifying - like a nightmare come to life. They were all ‘put to work’. According to Ten Pins, that work changed daily. Sometimes, it was sewing clothes. Other times, it was helping mend carriages. But it was  _ always _ Snyder exploiting them for profit. Each and every one of them was a cog in the Warden’s money making machine. 

Time worked weirdly at the Refuge. Every day blurred together. Each hour went by at such a gruelling pace that it felt like they had been stuck there for eternity. Every second seemed to leech away at their remaining optimism. It was easy to understand the look of defeat in the eyes of the kids surrounding them. It was easy to just...give up. But Racetrack Higgins was not one to ever take the easy option. They refused to let go of their stubbornness; they refused to lose themself. Even if the single week they spent there felt like months. 

But their stay was (unexpectedly) cut short. One morning, Pigs flooded into their room. But rather than trying to manhandle them out of their room, they were surprisingly gentle (or as gentle as a cop could be) as they ushered each of them out and down into the main foyer. It was there that the news was delivered to all of them. They were  _ free _ . Somehow, Governor Roosevelt had caught wind of the conditions at the Refuge and insisted on the facility closing immediately. Best of all, he had insisted on  _ Snyder’s arrest _ . The Warden was never going to get the chance to hurt any of them again. Snyder was never going to hurt Race’s family again. 

Unlike some of the others, Race didn’t start crying at the news. Instead, they took off running. They ignored the ache in their bones. They ignored the way weight had dropped off of them during their stay. They ignored the way that the brutal cold still hadn’t left their skin. They ignored everything and  _ just kept running _ . They kept running towards Newsies Square. They kept running home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated! Or hmu @ desert-lily on tumblr!


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Actually finishing a multi-chapter fic for once? It's more likely than you think!

In all honesty, Racetrack hadn’t been expecting to see the rally outside of The World building. Not even remotely. But it was a pleasant surprise to say the least. Somehow, the strike was still going and still very much successful. The crowd was hard to navigate but Race still found themself dancing between people, looking for a familiar colour; a familiar face. Strike or not, Race had just escaped from hell. They  _ needed _ to find someone familiar; someone who felt like home. Then there it was. A swarm of red in the crowd. Brooklyn. At the centre of it stood a short newsie with his arms crossed and a half-scowl on his face. Spot Conlon. Just seeing him there, safe, and clearly still being his asshole self filled Race with an unlimited amount of relief. Being as quiet as they could, Race found themself sneaking up on him with a wide grin on their face. 

“What’s got you so down, polka-dots?”

They watched as Spot froze for a moment before turning on his heel to face them. For a second Racetrack was certain he was going to punch them. Instead, they found themself being pulled into a bone-crushing hug. “You do that to me again and I’ll fuckin’ soak you myself, Higgins.” Despite his words, there was just a hint of concern mixed with affection hidden in his voice. 

A small smile twitched at the corner of Race’s lips as they gladly returned the hug. “Careful. Keep this up and someone will think you’re actually capable of positive emotion.” They tried to joke. 

Spot let out a shaky laugh. “When I found out Snyder got you…” He took a deep breath. “Fuck, Racer. I thought I’d lost you for good. I’ve seen what happens to the kids there. The thought of you…” He pulled them even closer. Spot looked up at them as if truly looking at them for the very first time. “...You look like shit, pretty boy.” Race barked out a laugh at that, relaxing into the hug. “As much as I have full plans on just holding you close forever, I do have a reputation and you have a group of dumbasses to get back to.” He gestured with his head to the group of Manhattan newsies that had yet to notice Racetrack’s return. “But I expect the full story later, okay?” They knew the question was rhetorical and just gave him a small nod. 

Race took a deep breath before making their way over to the group of idiots they called family. Though, they couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of Jack and Davey. That alone left a sinking feeling in their stomach. Considering the way everyone was gathered around The World building, they had little doubt as to where they were. Jack was somehow talking things out with Pulitzer. But he’d taken Davey with him. He hadn’t taken any of the newsies that made up their family,  _ He hadn’t even taken Crutchie _ . Instead, he had taken Davey Jacobs. They couldn’t but wonder if they had been right in their speculation of Jack replacing them as his second. They didn’t get the chance to think on it for long. “Racer!” They knew that voice. They knew it well.  _ Crutchie _ . They watched as he tried to half-run over to them. 

Race was quick to meet him in the middle, wrapping his arms around his little brother as if nothing else in the world mattered. Because it didn’t. His brother was okay; was safe. Racetrack had succeeded in their job of saving him. “ _ Charlie _ .” The name slipped from their lips like a prayer. They pulled him just that little bit closer. As every ache and pain from the Refuge caught up with them, Race was partially thankful for it. Because if they were hurt then it meant Charlie wasn’t. It meant their brother hadn’t been through hell. If it had been hard for them, they refused to imagine what it would have been like for him. It took them a few moments to realise Charlie was crying as he clung to them. “I’m here. I’m okay. I’m home.” 

“B-But Snyder…” As Race glanced down, they realised Crutchie still looked scared; as if he were still terrified they would be dragged away again.  _ It was heartbreaking _ . Charlie had earned his reputation as the one of them with the most persistent optimism. As much teasing as Rave gave him for it, Crutchie had a spark in him that they refused to let go out. Seeing him like this didn’t feel right. 

“Snyder’s gone for good. The Refuge’s done for good.” Saying the words out loud was like taking a weight off of Race’s chest. It really was real. There really was no hope in hell of Snyder ever hurting anyone they cared about again. “I promise. None of us is gonna end up there again.” They whispered gently. “He ain’t gunna hurt any of us ever again.” There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty in their voice. 

As Race got themself reintroduced to the others and was subjected to a mixture of affection and mild violence, they didn’t leave Charlie’s side. Not even for a second. They needed to keep an eye on him; make sure he was truly okay. The image of seeing him being  _ so clos _ e to being dragged off to the Refuge still filled them with fear. He was family and God knows what they would do if they lost their family. After what felt like far too long, Jack and Davey were exiting The World building with an announcement that the strike was over.  _ They’d won _ . What happened next was pure pandemonium. There were cheers and hugs and the general wildness that made them all...them. As the celebrations started, Racetrack kept their distance from Jack. Not even after he had decided to stay in New York. They didn’t want to hear about how he was so sorry for replacing them or that Race wasn’t needed around anymore or  _ that they weren’t his brother anymore _ . Unfortunately, Jack seemed to disagree with Race’s attempts to avoid him. 

They were behind the lodge house smoking when Jack found them. “You been avoiding me for a reason, Racer?” His voice was quiet; as if his words were uncertain. For once, it seemed as if Jack Kelly had no idea what to say. “Ain’t seen you around. Probably wouldn’t even know you were out if Al hadn’t told me.” 

Race was quiet for a few moments. “...Guess I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable.” They admitted, looking straight down. It was easier than meeting Jack’s eyes. “Didn’t want to hear about how you’ve replaced me. Ain’t exactly hard to see. Davey’s practically stuck to you like glue. But you work together well, right? I mean, you won the strike with him!” 

“Racetrack. Look at me.” With slight hesitance, they glanced up. Reluctantly, they met his eyes. “Sure, Davey’s my friend and he definitely helped the strike.” They scoffed. Here it came. The replacement speech. “But he ain’t you. He don’ know the others like you do. He ain’t got your silver tongue, Race. And most importantly; he ain’t my kid brother.” Race just...reacted to his words as they hugged him. Relief washed through them. Out of every hug they had received, this was the one they needed most. Hugs from Jack were...different from the ones anyone else gave. They grounded Race; reminded them that they had a family. They reminded Race that everything would be okay. “Ain’t a single person out there that could replace you, kid. Not for anything in the world.” 

A small smile slipped onto their face. “Not even for Santa Fe?” 

“Especially not for Santa Fe.” 

Maybe everything was going to be okay. As long as Race had their brothers, everything in the world would be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever write a Sprace fic where Spot doesn't call Race 'pretty boy'? Absolutely not! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated! Comments especially fuel my writing! Feel free to hmu @ desert-lily on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm highkey proud of this! Love it? Hate it? Comments are always appreciate or hmu @ desert-lily on tumblr!


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